


My Hand In Yours

by evenmyneck (stopmopingstarthoping)



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:53:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21928528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stopmopingstarthoping/pseuds/evenmyneck
Summary: Dimitri and Felix have been side-by-side for a long time.  One of the memories Dimitri keeps coming back to is holding Felix’s hand.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 4
Kudos: 37





	My Hand In Yours

One of the first things he remembers is holding Felix’s hand. It’s a memory that is dog-eared and worn, one that Dimitri brings up in moments when he needs comfort and one that springs unbidden to his mind sometimes, as well. 

Felix’s hand, dirty and engulfed in Dimitri’s larger one. It's accompanied by a quiet, defiant sniffle; Felix is already learning to stifle his hurts in the name of chivalry, and he doesn't want Glenn to think he's a baby. 

So Dimitri just sits, quietly, letting Felix grip his hand and holding on in return. He wants to scoop Felix into a hug, but he's already old enough to shove Dimitri off, which he knows he will. They sit under a tree for a long time, until the light fades. 

“You hungry?” 

Felix just gives a sharp nod in response and gets up. He doesn’t let go of Dimitri’s hand, though, not until they’re close enough to be spotted from the castle walls. 

Another summer day, and it’s Felix grabbing his hand again, but this time to pull Dimitri up into a tree. Dimitri isn't particularly _good_ at climbing trees. Sure, he’s got the strength to yank himself up into the branches, but it's ungainly. Felix skips up graceful and light, of course, fleet of foot and limbs bending effortlessly like the branches that barely move under his weight. He holds out his hand. 

“Come _on_ , Dimitri. You can see some of the leaves changing from up here.”

His grip is strong—not _Dimitri_ -strong, but still. Dimitri can feel the sword calluses and tough sinew as Felix braces his feet against the branches and hauls him higher. 

The two of them sit up there, away from the world, for a long time. They talk some, but mostly they’re just silent. Felix is one of those people Dimitri doesn’t have to talk around, and he’s thankful. 

Dimitri comes up here sometimes later, by himself, especially after they lose Glenn, but it isn’t the same. 

There’s one time Dimitri can remember from the monastery. A quick interlace of fingers under the table. The rest of their classmates laugh, clatter forks against plates, layer words on top of smiles and jokes and relax, truly, for the first time in weeks. Winning a battle together pulls the strings that hold them together tight, and the free smiles of celebrating are contagious. 

Dimitri is surprised when a hand joins his, and even more surprised when it’s more than a quick squeeze, and Felix leaves his hand there all through dinner. He knows if he reacts too much, he’ll lose this moment, so he just squeezes back and savors every moment of the hand placed in his. 

No, it was twice, at the monastery. How could Dimitri forget this one? He supposes it had been a little overshadowed by the quick, defiant press of lips to his own, cool on the brisk fall air. Dimitri’s eyes had flown open, and he’d felt Felix's fingers curled comfortably into his own, their joined hands resting on Dimitri’s thigh. 

Three times? Dimitri shakes his head, upset with his faulty memory and how many of these moments it’s not allowing him to savor. He sees Felix catching Dimitri’s hand in his smaller nimble one as Dimitri pushes unruly blue-black strands back from Felix’s face. It’s a moment Dimitri only half-remembers in a blur of emotion, and it passes quickly, too quickly to hold. It hurts Dimitri, the speed with which this one flits away, but he holds onto the feel of soft strands between his fingers. 

Four. It was four. Dimitri had pulled Felix up during a battle that felt like it would never end. Felix had just nodded in acknowledgement and gotten to his feet, too slowly. He’d refused to look at Dimitri, and Dimitri had felt, deep down, that he'd deserved it. 

Dimitri doesn’t feel the cold as much, anymore. He looks down at his hands, pale, bare even in the swirl of snowflakes in the air. 

He looks up at the monastery far in the distance and continues to walk. Hope swells in his chest and pulls at his heart so hard it hurts. 

Five years. 

He looks down at his hands again, and hopes they are still worthy. 


End file.
